If Only
by The Wordless Epoch
Summary: Jennifer Strait has come to the Precinct after nearly fourteen years away. Will she find merely a job, or will attraction to one certain detective prevent her success? WARNING: Graphic violence and description. Sexual scenes later on.
1. New Faces

Chapter 1: New Faces

Chapter 1: New Faces

"Captain, please! You've seen my work in other cases; you know that I can do this!" Jennifer Strait begged, bracing her hands on the police chief's desk. "With Novak leaving, you _need_ me to take her place, _don't_ deny it."

"Miss Strait, you _do_ realize that Diane Novak is leaving for her own safety, rather than personal desire, am I correct?" the man assured, returning to a stack of papers to his right.

"I know you recall my history in law enforcement, sir."

"Then why are you begging me to be our new attorney? Stabler's been looking for a new partner, Miss Strait; maybe you're the one that'll do him justice." Realizing what he'd said, he added, "No pun intended."

"Sir, you are _infuriating._" Jennifer spun on her heel and out of the Precinct, fuming.

* * *

On her way to the car, she nearly ran into the one and only Eliot Stabler.

"Jenny, what's new?" he asked, catching her as she almost fell onto the hard pavement.

"Oh, like you don't know, Eliot," she snapped, regaining control of her legs and sprinting the rest of the way to her car.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don't," he called after her convertible.

_I find it funny that we do the real work and attorneys get paid more than we do …_ he thought, looking back at his bike. _This is pathetic._ Eliot shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, heading into the precinct.

"Oh, Eliot, you probably saw her on your way in, but Jennifer Strait just tried to apply as our new attorney," were the words that greeted Eliot's ears as he walked through the door. He looked at his chief in confusion, mixed with anxiety. _Whoops ..._

"And how does this affect me, sir?" he asked, perching himself on the corner of his desk. "Does she have the job?"

"No. I wouldn't let her." At Eliot's shock, the man continued, "She's a young girl with a vast future, Stabler; if I let her take on the role of NYPD Attorney ... God, man, her future would be _gone_."

"What do you mean?"

Dropping his voice so low even Eliot, who was standing right next to him, could barely hear him, he said, "Remember Alex? And now Novak? Eliot, don't tell me you don't believe in omens. You're a good Catholic man and I know that you know what's going on here."

"Sir, excuse my bluntness when I say this, but have you gone mad?" Eliot paused, thinking. _This position __can't__ be 'cursed.' This isn't Harry Potter, nor is it a matter of wizardry ... there's evil people out there that want revenge on whoever locked their cohort, or cohorts, up ... how could someone possibly stay here for more than ten years with those circumstances anyway? _Seemingly enough, Eliot voiced his thoughts.

"I'm not sure either, Stabler, but this girl, for some reason, believes she could quite possibly work out."

"Well, what did you tell her?" the detective asked, waving to Doctor Huang as he entered the building and turned left to go to the Lab. The police chief regaled Eliot with the conversation with Jennifer Strait, leaving out the part about her being his new partner.

"And?" Eliot prompted. "What happened then? What did she say?"

"She said that I 'know of her successful past in law enforcement ...'" Eliot nodded, and the man continued, "... so I suggested she apply to be your new partner instead. Hey, Charlie, get me a cup of coffee, would you?" Noting the now-irate man in front of him, he reconsidered, "Actually, on second thought, I'll come with you."

"Oh no, you won't. I have some things to say to you now that we're on the straight and narrow."

"Careful, Eliot. I _am_ your Captain."

"Captain or not, I _do_ have a say in who my new partner is."

"Yeah, and with her being a beautiful young woman, I think you'd agree that-"

"No, no, no, no. I made that mistake once. I got too close to her and forgot that, as a partner, we work together to put some scumbag behind bars, sir. To save a kid, or give parents reprieve from worrying where their kids are. I tried to save her far too many times and she did the same for me, and we both let the guy slip away. It wouldn't be fair to put Jenny through that."

"You won't think that way when you talk to her. She's probably the most in-tune girl out there. She could do this job, Eliot. She could save the kid, keep you alive, and incapacitate the guy badly enough that he's alive when arrested, but unable to hurt anyone else while you wait for back-up. All at the same time."

"Yeah?" The Captain nodded. "And how do you know that?"

"I was her Captain once."

* * *

"Can you believe it?" Jenny asked her mom. She had called her first thing, furious.

"Honey, you have to admit, it's a good job, and well paying."

"I like being a lawyer. You remember why I became a lawyer, don't you? Yeah, that's right, I almost got blown up. Why wouldn't I want to go back to that?"

"Your sarcasm is both unwelcome and unnecessary, Jennifer," her mother scolded wearily. "I understand your fear of that happening again, but you _know_ Detective Stabler, and he would prevent that at all costs."

"I know you think that's helping, mom, but you do realize that he's probably the hottest guy I've seen since college? I don't want that to get in the way of my _job_."

"Go in first thing tomorrow and tell the Captain you'll take the offer. That you've thought about it and you think it would be a good transition. If I know that Captain, whom I do from when you were under his orders, he'll welcome you with open arms."

"But …"

"Jenny, dear, it'll all work out for the best. Maybe you're just not supposed to be a lawyer right now." After a short pause, she continued softly, "Your father would _want_ you to take this offer. He wants you to live in the moment, and help others. Being a lawyer does that, I know, but only through speaking and persuasion. Use your body to find things out. And use your head."

"Mom, I-"

"Jenny, just do what your mother asks. Please? You're twenty-nine years old; start doing what you're really cut out to do." They said their goodbyes and hung up the phone, leaving Jennifer to think things through.

* * *

"Wait, I just don't understand it!" Eliot declared, resting his elbows on his desk and hanging his head.

"Eliot, let me tell you a story." The Captain crossed his legs and swung them up onto his own desk, leaning back in his chair. "When Jennifer was twenty-four years old, she came to me asking for work in the investigation field. I hired her, and for two years, her work went untarnished. Until, of course, her third year here at the Precinct.

"There were two cases in session at that time; one was murder, and the other was rape. Several committed by the same two people. Remember, it was like a serial killer and a sex offender were having a whole big, reminiscent party that year?" Eliot nodded, prompting the Captain to continue. "I assigned the murder case to Jennifer, because she seemed like a strong woman who could take just about anything.

"It took about a month; it wasn't Jennifer's fault, the evidence merely just wasn't there. This didn't have anything to do with you and Olivia; you were working on the rape case.

"About two weeks into the investigation, however, we got a lead that planted in two of our cars were bombs. Supposedly, they would explode at the highest point of speed, right before the driver would press the brake …" The Captain trailed off and Eliot looked at him, his jaw slack.

"And Jennifer picked that lucky vehicle out of the other three?" he asked.

"Yes, Eliot. She smelled the gasoline and tried to open the windows, but the power lines had deteriorated from the flow of gas. The doors wouldn't unlock because they, too, had been cut off from power. She had no way out of the car." By this point, Eliot was shocked the girl was even alive.

"So what happened?" he inquired, waving guiltily to Olivia, who was now seated on the opposite side of the office. She stared back. "The car exploded, I'm assuming?"

"Yep, but Jennifer was smart, and when she heard the _KABOOM!, _she covered her eyes with one arm, and the back of her head with the other, and launched herself in a rolling tumble out of the car. She escaped with mere burns and scrapes, compared to death."

Eliot blinked.

"And I take it she doesn't want to go back to that?"

"She was amazing, Eliot. Nothing got by her. _Nothing_. She was one of our best. We need her, _you_ need her."

"I _don't_ need her. If she doesn't want to, she shouldn't have to. She likes being a lawyer; let her take over for Novak."

"Do you know why Novak's leaving?" Eliot shook his head. "There's a price on her head, as the British would say. She's in the same boat as Alex."

* * *

The next morning, Jennifer dressed and headed on her way to the Precinct to tell the Captain her decision, though begrudgingly.

"Okay, so you changed your mind?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I was a detective first and a detective, I suppose, I will stay …"

"Okay. Well, then, I'll introduce you to your new partner, Miss Strait." He gestured to someone behind her and she turned to find herself face to face with Eliot Stabler. He waved and smiled kindly before taking a seat next to her.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me. I would have at least figured you'd pair me up with Benson …" she snapped, sending a glare in Eliot's way. "You can't be serious about this!"

"Ah, but Jenny, I _am_. I think he'll bring out the best in you, and cause you to work even better than you normally do."

"Sir, I-"

"Jennifer," he stated warningly, staring into her eyes. "Eliot Stabler is your new partner, fair and simple. Good luck, and good day, Miss Strait."

"Fine," Jennifer conceded, rolling her eyes. Eliot stood and followed her to his desk. "Where's my desk?"

"We share a desk."

"This is ridiculous …"

"I'm completely serious. Partners share desks, Jenny."

"Don't call me Jenny."

"Okay … Strait?"

"Detective Strait, thank you very much."

"Ahh; partners share desks, _Detective Strait._" Jennifer sniffed, but nodded politely all the same.

"Fine then." She plopped down into a seat and looked Eliot up and down. "We need to get to know each other."

"What do you need to know?"

"Quirks, ticks, likes, dislikes, all that stuff."

"I can't stand liars, cheaters, or scumbags who think they can get out of a situation by killing or raping a minor."

"Nor can I, but I dislike arrogant, cocky bastards more."

"And I suppose you mean me in that statement," Eliot stated softly, gazing at her inquisitively. After a long pause, during which Jennifer blushed and squirmed in discomfort, Eliot continued quietly, "Why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you?"

Jennifer had to think. He had always tended to look past her at the Precinct. Given, he had generally been attempting to solve a big case, but a nice smile would have always been appreciated. She didn't _hate him._ She merely wanted to set the record straight.

"I don't _hate_ you."

"If this is how you show liking someone, I'd hate to see what disliking them would be …"

"Look, I'm sorry for treating you poorly or whatever I've done, but it's not what you think. Besides, why be friends with me when you've got a family back home?"

"Excuse me?"

"I know you're married. You have kids, too. How's Jason doing?" she snapped.

"He's fine. And what does me being married have to do with us being friends?"

"Ugh. Nevermind, Stabler. I've got to go."

"You're not going anywhere, neither of you are."

"What? Why?"

"We just got a call. There's another rape. Only this time, we can't talk to the girl."

"Why not?"

"No one can seem to find her."


	2. The Face on the Milk Carton

Chapter 2: The Face on the Milk Carton

"So it's … a rape and a kidnapping?" Eliot stammered, glancing at Jennifer.

"Oh, no, this isn't going to be my _first_ case, Stabler. It's my first day. You can't expect me to-"

"Detective Strait, I think it would be a good experience for you to get right in there."

"I don't know your technique!" Jennifer yelped as Eliot grabbed her hand and dragged her away toward the door of the Precinct.

"Oh," he chuckled, "By the end of today, you will!"

"Lucky, lucky, lucky me; I'm a lucky son of a gun …" Jennifer sang as she threw her trench coat, which she hadn't worn in more than fourteen years, around her shoulders.

"Damn right, Detective Strait; you're lucky because you're working with _me._"

"Don't flatter yourself."

* * *

Four hours and five interrogations later, Eliot and Jennifer returned to the Precinct empty handed.

"Don't be discouraged, Detective Strait; it's only the beginning of the case. With more evidence, justice will be served."

"Yeah, well …" Jennifer trailed off, not sure what to argue. The fact that she was too nervous to actually go up to someone and ask them questions; or the fact that when she walked into the apartment, she found she was allergic to whatever perfume the girl had been wearing, and couldn't breathe and therefore had to leave. She didn't want to admit any of this, but nonetheless muttered, "I was pathetic," earning herself a pat on the back from Eliot.

"No, you weren't. No one knew you were allergic to Jessica Simpson perfume, and it was your first day; anyone could expect you to not go up to a possible witness and question them. It's completely understandable." After a moment of silence, he added, "Detective, I think we need to get something straight here …"

"Pardon?"

"If we're going to work together, we need to get to know each other better."

"You know me."

"No, I might know Jennifer Strait as a person, Detective, but I don't _know_ her. I never got to ask you a question."

"Hmm?"

"What are your 'quirks, ticks, likes, dislikes, all that stuff?'" Jennifer raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Well?"

"I told you the one thing that pisses me off most."

"Yes, I know, but I want more than that. I want to know _everything_."

"'Everything?' Okay, I'll tell you 'everything.'" After a second of gathering her thoughts, Jennifer began to explain. "Only if you tell _me_ everything."

"Deal."

"What do you want to know?"

"Quirks."

"Every Friday night, I watch _Lifetime _movies and eat a pint of _Ben & Jerry's_ ice cream. What are _your_ quirks?" Eliot smirked but answered,

"I couldn't be happier than when I'm reading a bedtime story to my youngest daughter. Ticks?"

"Idiots who think they can get away with murder and rape and not get caught."

"Same. Likes?"

"I love chai tea lattes, French art, and Johnny Depp films."

"Large Italian dinners after I close a huge case, _The Coasters_, and my _BowFlex_ at home." By this time, both Eliot and Jennifer were in a staring competition over the desk, their elbows resting on their consecutive edges and shoulders tense. "Dislikes?"

"Salmon sushi, _The Coasters_, and excessive use of computers to do common-sense thinking."

"Cottage cheese, Johnny Depp films, J-Lo music, and guys who wear their hats sideways. Oops, that's a tick, sorry …"

"Not a big deal. Is that everything?" Jennifer stood, and Eliot joined her, towering over her five-foot-five frame.

"No."

"'No?' What else could there be? We went through almost-"

"Why are you so bitter?" he interrupted. "What happened to you to be so angry at the male population, minus The Chief?"

"I … I … I'm not sure what you're talking about, Stabler."

"Who did wrong by you? Who betrayed your trust?" Eliot inquired softly. Jennifer collapsed in a chair and looked up at Eliot's lofty frame.

"My boyfriend." Catching her mistake, she corrected, "My _ex-_boyfriend." Before he could ask, Jennifer continued, "He slept with me after dating me for three years without sex. One night, he came home from a difficult case – he was a lawyer too – and I wanted to surprise him. I made it really special, and it _was_. A week later, I found out he had been two-timing me with some skank from somewhere in Connecticut."

At Eliot's disgusted, yet admittedly intrigued, expression, she went on, "I dumped him. I wanted to get away from him and his apartment as fast as I could – we were living together at the time. This was a week ago. I resigned from my job and moved here. He hasn't questioned it yet and didn't seem too remorseful when I actually did it, either, which pissed me off more."

"Well … where are you staying?"

"A Junior Suite at the Jumeirah."

"You drive _that_ far to work?! Are you nuts?"

"Call me crazy, but it's a nice room with a great view. It's like my own little apartment. Great room service, too."

"Detective Strait, you're insane."

"No, I'm a lawyer."

"Stabler …" a voice said behind them. "I know it's not my case, it's yours', but I just got a pretty important lead …"

"How? From who?" Eliot asked, spinning around to find himself opposite Olivia Benson.

"Apparently, no one else knows we're not partners anymore." With a small frown playing on her face, she added, "You might want to see this guy for yourselves." She threw a glance at Jennifer and then looked questioningly at Eliot; obviously, everyone had heard about the perfume debacle. She led them down the hallway to the interrogation room, where a man sat facing the one-way window.

"Have fun!" Olivia smiled bitterly, turned, and stalked back down the corridor to her new partner's desk, leaving Eliot and Jennifer to do the interrogations.

"You want to go first?" Jennifer inquired, prodding Eliot to go in.

"I think you should."

The reasoning behind that hard decision was based on the fact that the man under interrogation was a big, brawny man with numerous tattoos and piercings, and a tall, black- and blue-dyed mohawk. He looked like he could whip out a gun at any given moment and shoot down the building.

"Oh, fine, I'll do it. Stay here and watch." Eliot unlocked the door and slipped in, shutting the door behind him. The security guard relocked it and motioned for Jennifer to watch through the window. Jennifer knew what to do. _Why's everyone treating me like a newbie?!_

"So, Mr. …" Eliot glanced down at the papers, plopping down in a chair. "… _Keanan_? What do you have for-"

"Excuse me for interrupting, sir, but I really prefer the more common reference of 'Jon,' rather than Mr. Keanan …"

"I apologize, _Jon_." Eliot smirked at the window and Jennifer returned the expression. "So, _Jon,_ what information would you like to share?"

"I'd like to tell you what I saw when Elizabeth Jennings was raped."

"Are you the man behind all of this?"

"No."

"Then who are you to Miss Jennings?"

"I'm her brother, sir."

"Do you know who raped your sister?"

"No, sir. I haven't a clue." Jennifer noticed a faint British accent behind the almost pure American English of his voice. She made a mental note; Elizabeth could have quite possibly been British as well.

"Then what good will you be? You do, I hope, realize that, as an informant, what you say can and most likely will be used in the court of law?"

"Indeed, sir, I do."

"Okay, Jon, proceed." Eliot hit the 'Record' button on his voice recorder and stated who was talking, that it was of his own accord, and what the case was about. Then, he prompted the man to continue with his story.

"Alright, Lizzie … I mean … Elizabeth …"

"It's okay to call her by nicknames; we know who you're talking about," Eliot murmured. Jon nodded and resumed his story.

"Lizzie was my sister. We grew up in England, and moved here when I was about ten. That would make her seven when we moved. Life was great here, and we both made a lot of friends. We were both on our new school's football … I mean … _soccer_ teams, and everyone was quite welcoming." Eliot nodded. "When we began secondary school, high school here, we somehow became social outcasts.

"I'm not sure how, or why, but all of our friends from primary school abandoned us; I was Lizzie's only friend, and she was my only friend. It was rather pathetic, looking back on it.

"One day in study hall, a boy came up to Lizzie and me and started calling me a freak, and Lizzie a whore. He made fun of our accents, and after that day, we tried to avoid them. It wasn't all that easy.

"Mum signed us up for voice lessons, which took a majority of our accents away. But as much as we tried to avoid that one dude, he and his clique somehow found us everywhere we went."

"So he was a bully; all he wanted to do was hurt you, but why?"

"My mum and dad were quite rich at the time; very wealthy, or more so than the average American. We had the finer things in life while the majority of our new school did not. He was jealous."

"So," Eliot cut in, "he wanted to show you how much your being wealthier than he was pissed him off?" Jon nodded.

"The ironic thing was, the year after I graduated, Lizzie and this boy … hooked up." In shock, Eliot's eyebrows raised, and he put his hand under his chin speculatively. "Indeed, sir; they were at a party, and I guess one of them, I'm doubting it was Lizzie, got pissed and started fancying the other."

"One of them got pissed?"

"I apologize, _drunk_."

"Oh. Briticism."

"British slang is still in my brain; I don't think about what I say before I say it, and I guess that's what got me in trouble that fine day I told the boy, Kevin Hopkins, that I didn't want to see him around my sister ever again. That he took advantage of her and influenced her, and she only slept with the bastard because he was scaring her by being so drunk."

Eliot blinked.

"How long ago was this?"

"Lizzie just turned nineteen a few months ago; I think it was about four years ago that she slept with him. She graduated from high school about three."

"Do you think there's a possibility that when your sister went away to college, the bully sought her out and raped her, proceeding to then kidnap her? As revenge? Or a thrill?"

"There's a good chance that, yes, he would do that." Jon sniffed and leaned forward, resting his head on the table's cool, grey surface. "I can't believe it. My baby sister is … she's gone."

"I'm sorry, Jon, I really am." Jon raised his head and shot a tearful look at Eliot.

"Yeah. So what are you going to do about it, Detective? How quickly can you find her?" Eliot looked at him inquisitively for a few moments before pressing the 'Stop' button on the tape recorder.

"We'll find her as soon as we possibly can."


	3. Goose Chase

Chapter 3: Goose Chase

Eliot sauntered out of the interrogation room and stood next to Jennifer, looking in at the boy with the black and blue mohawk. The boy was, in his opinion, blubbering like a pansy, but then again, rightfully so. The only person that had ever related to him … was gone.

"What did you find out?"

"I'll let you listen out in the office." He turned to the guard and said, "He's free to go, but let me have Huang have a look at him. Or a psychiatrist." The guard nodded and Eliot motioned for Jennifer to follow him to the office area. She plopped down in a seat and he hit the "Play" button.

"Listen to this," he mouthed when the ending neared, turning the volume up.

Eliot's question played, then came Jon's reply.

"Do you think there's a possibility that … the bully sought her out and raped her, proceeding to then kidnap her? …"

"There's a good chance that … he would do that."

Jennifer was appalled.

"Why would someone be so obsessed?"

"Beautiful girl, offended guy. Why not?" Eliot answered, pressing "Stop", and then "Rewind."

"So what are we going to do about it, Stabler?"

"First, have you had dinner?"

"No …?"

"Okay, then come with me to this restaurant downtown."

"You're married."

"And I'm thinking the bully might be too. Come on."

* * *

Eliot drove her to Times Square, to a restaurant off of the main drag.

"Here."

"Is this a bust or something?" Jennifer inquired, eyeing the restaurant door anxiously. "If it is, we're not prepared to-"

"Detective Strait, relax. We're going to have a nice dinner, and yes, there might be some excitement. Don't worry, though," Eliot answered with a mischievous look in his eye, "No guns will be fired unless absolutely necessary." Eliot got out of the car and Jennifer swung her car door open.

"Oh, shut up, Stabler. And be polite in there!" she shouted.

"And what would be the need for telling me this?" He grinned menacingly.

"I don't want you saying something stupid. I'd rather _not_ get shot tonight."

"Oh, chill, it's not like he's got a loaded gun pointed at your head."

"True, but if you don't shut up," Jennifer warned, "You might have _my _gun pointed at _yours_."

"Ooh, scary." He held the restaurant door open and allowed Jennifer to enter first, then followed her to the concierge desk. "A table for two, please." The concierge glanced at both of them and their long, dark trench coats, and quickly realized they were detectives.

"Right this way, sir, miss." Jennifer and Eliot followed her to their table, and Eliot assisted her in taking off her coat. When they were seated, the concierge added, "Your waiter will be Kevin; he'll be here shortly to take your drink orders."

"Thank you," Eliot murmured, making himself comfortable in the chair. "Is Detective Strait going to be drinking this evening?" he joked.

"Of course. A glass of wine." When he raised his eyebrows, she continued, "Don't look at me like that; I know my limits."

"Do you? Then what are you going to do if you _miss_ your limits, hm?"

"I don't know."

"Rape the first man you see?" Eliot smirked, while Jennifer huffed,

"Well, maybe I will!" She suddenly felt a presence behind her and slowly turned around to see herself faced with a black sport-coat.

"I'm hoping you don't mean me; my wife would kill me!" the man chuckled, causing Jennifer to look up. She was greeted by the most charming smile and friendly eyes, a strange shade – lavender. He was athletic, and he obviously had been quite the heartthrob in highschool. The football quarterback, maybe?

This surely couldn't be …

"Kevin," Eliot began stiffly, "How's life treating you?"

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Kevin smiled apologetically, holding out his hand, which Eliot promptly ignored.

"I don't know, Kevin; have you had trouble with the law before?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Oh, come now, not even a speeding ticket?"

"Well, yes, but only because my wife was in labor and-"

"No offense, Kevin, but we don't care. I was just kidding. A little detective humor." Eliot smiled, but the kindness didn't reach his blue eyes. Kevin, however, looked relieved that he wasn't in trouble.

_Yet …_ Jennifer thought to herself, snorting at his still-stricken face.

"Would you … like something to d-drink?" Kevin stammered, taking his order packet out of his apron pocket shakily.

"Yes, thank you," Jennifer said, as genuinely benevolently as she could. "A glass of your finest wine, please. Possibly a chardonnay? Or a House. Whatever you have, I'm sure it'll be palatable." She sent a charming smile his way and looked over at Eliot expectantly.

"Your finest _beer_, for me." He returned the anticipating gaze. "Nothing light, though. A rich, flavorful base."

"Sounds like the miss would like a Sauvignon Blanc, and you, sir, would like our finest Belgian wheat beer." They looked at each other, shocked, and nodded. "I'll be back with your drinks, and then if you're ready, I can take your meal orders."

"Thank you. And once you're finished with the orders, we have some questions to ask you."

"Detective, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm parched. Please, just go get my beer." Eliot waved him away, and he obeyed hurriedly.

"That's not our guy," Jennifer muttered.

"How do you know?" Eliot asked, looking at her ignorantly. "He-"

"Stabler, he's a fruitcake. He doesn't have enough man in him to rape someone. They might have dated, but he doesn't even seem like the kind of guy that bullies a girl."

"Bedside manner is different than professional personality. It's his job to be polite."

"When you question him, you'll see, if I can't convince you now."

"I'm not going to argue with you about this."

"I say we put on a little bit of an act."

"What?"

"I might not act like it usually, but I _can_ be flirty, Detective."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting, Detective, that I hit on him. You act like we're on a date. Get jealous. Let your rage show."

Eliot raised his eyebrows. "Pardon?"

"Act like my boyfriend. He's coming back." Jennifer grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes longingly. Eliot could have sworn she was being honest.

"A beautiful Sauvignon Blanc for the lady, and a Belgian beer for the man. Have you decided what you'd like to order?" She let go of Eliot's hand and picked up her menu.

"Yes, we're ready," Eliot murmured. "We're each having the grilled venison with the wild mushroom and tomato bordelaise." Kevin glanced over at Jennifer, who just smiled kindly, adding a mischievous gleam to her brown eyes.

"Uh … Okay … Here's your bread-" He set a napkin-covered basket on the table and continued, "And I'll be back momentarily with some butter …" He hurried away, and returned, like promised, with a little dish of whipped garlic and chive butter.

"Thank you!" He hung around and watched her take a bit of the butter on her knife and spread it on an herb roll. "Mm, your butter is so … _creamy_. It's got so much flavor … It just melts in your mouth!" She smirked at Kevin, who merely blushed and smiled nervously.

" … Our chef should be pleased to hear that …?"

"He should be, but you're the one who dished it, correct?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Kevin, you're the artist here, not the _chef_. It's _you_ who-"

"Okay, a few more customers just sat down. I need to go." He nearly ran into another table as he tried to get away from theirs, and tripped over a chair leg in his pursuit to finish his shift.

At Eliot's shocked expression, Jennifer shrugged and stated, "I never said my flirting was successful."

* * *

"Okay, Kevin, let's be straightforward and honest." Kevin nodded as Eliot continued, "Did you ever date an Elizabeth Jennings?"

"The name sounds familiar … but did I date her? No, I don't remember."

"Her brother has a different account."

"Pardon?"

"Miss Jennings had a brother, Kevin," Jennifer murmured, folding her hands on the table in front of her. "Jonathan Keanan seems to think you dated her."

"Who's Jonathan Keanan? I don't even _know_ him." Kevin appeared genuinely confused. "I _might_ have dated her in high school, but that's it. And it would only have been because I really liked her. I wouldn't ever _rape _her."

"Kevin, we aren't implying that you _did_ kidnap Elizabeth, but we need you to explain to us where you were that night."

"What do you need? DNA samples or something?"

"We don't have a body to compare them to." Eliot handed a picture of Elizabeth to Kevin and asked, "Does this girl look familiar?"

After a scrutinizing pause, he looked up and nodded. "Faintly. I think I've seen her at the restaurant before. Why?"

"That's Elizabeth. Was she eating at the restaurant Monday evening?"

"No, not that I recall." Eliot looked at Jennifer, who merely shrugged. "I'm sorry, detectives, but I honestly have no clue. I work from eight in the morning to midnight every other day. I then go straight home, shower, and kiss my wife and daughter good night, even though they're already asleep. I have a life to tend to, detectives. I wouldn't screw it up for anything." Kevin cradled his forehead in his hands, shaking his head perplexedly.

"Kevin, can you describe who she had been with when she's come in before?" Jennifer inquired softly. "Was she with a man? Or a group of friends?"

"She's always come in with a middle-aged man with grey hair. One time, there was a young girl with them, but other than that, no, it's usually just the man and her."

"Can you describe the man in more detail?" Eliot flipped open his notepad and got his pen out.

Kevin nodded and began, "He's tall, probably around six feet, and the one time I waited on their table, I saw his eyes. They were a grey-green, and he had almost a smirky smile, as if he were continuously shoving in my face that I was working class and he was wealthy."

"So, he was wealthy?"

"Yeah. Marc-Jacobs-suits-and-Italian-leather-shoes wealthy."

Eliot looked at Jennifer, who looked back with the same anticipating eyes.

As if to say, "Is Elizabeth Jennings a gold-digger?"


	4. Fixing the Dumbwaiter

Chapter 4: Fixing the Dumbwaiter

"You know what I just realized?" Jennifer asked Eliot, looking over at him.

"What?"

"Jonathan never told us what he saw."

"What, do you think he's holding out information on us?"

"I don't know. Did we get an address for him?" Jennifer was still staring at Eliot, who then grimaced.

"No, but we can have Lou run a search for us. If he's hiding, he won't be for long." Eliot turned the key in the ignition and sped off with Jennifer toward the Precinct.

* * *

When they arrived, they immediately went over to Lou to request a scan of the state for Jonathan Keanan. He typed in the name and hit enter. Sitting back in his chair, he sighed.

"What's this going to show?" Jennifer asked. "When I was here fourteen years ago, we didn't have this!" Lou looked up at her and pointed at the screen.

"I've entered his name to search the database across the country for his current location. Although it's not like he has a 'chip' in him or anything, we can track where his last currency transactions have been made to and from." Jennifer nodded and watched as lines passed over the world map on the screen. After a few moments, the computer started beeping and zoomed in on Long Island.

"Eliot, look-" Jennifer gasped, poking his shoulder. "The Suffolk County bank … How far a drive is that from here?" came her question for Lou, who shrugged his shoulders and answered,

"About an hour. But the last withdrawal was this afternoon, nearly sixty minutes before he arrived here. He could be long gone by now."

"Can't you track where his credit card is?" The technology nerd looked up at her, incredulous.

"No," he said slowly, obviously assailing her intelligence, "What do you think this is, science fiction?"

"Of course not, but with all your computers and doo-dads and all those things, I'd assume you'd have a credit card tra-"

"But we don't, so you should probably go follow Eliot." Jennifer spun and saw Eliot's back disappearing out the doors of the Precinct.

"Damn it all …" She raced out of the office, running into Olivia.

"Jennifer," she said tersely.

"Olivia," Jennifer responded, ducking around her and after Eliot. "Jesus, Stabler, slow the hell down!"

"We don't have that much time, Detective," he shouted over his shoulder as he hopped into the police car. "We have to get to First National A.S.A.P." Jennifer whipped open the car door and sat down just as Eliot began to pull away.

"Nothing like waiting for your partner to actually get in the car," she said snidely.

"Nothing like waiting for your partner to arrive _at_ the car," Eliot responded, taking the first left he came to. "If we don't get there as soon as we can, Jon Keanan could-"

"Why does he have a different last name?" Jennifer interrupted. "If he's Elizabeth Jennings' brother, shouldn't they have the same surname?"

"Half sister?"

"Half brother?"

"Jennings was married? Or the parents got divorced, and with her mother, she took the maiden name?"

"No, they were together throughout childhood, according to Jon." Jennifer looked out the window and listened to Eliot's reasoning.

"But if the parents got divorced when she was out of high school, Jennings could have been bitter at her father, and therefore took her mother's maiden name to separate herself from the paternal side of the family."

"Yet, if they had been out of high school, they could have just moved away and cut off communication. Surname change would have been unnecessary," she pointed out, looking back at Eliot's face.

"True, but with teenage females, decisions aren't impulsive, they're well thought out. Jennings could've simply found hatred with her father over a long period of time and decided that she had 'suffered' enough."

"Maybe he knows what's going on?"

"Let's look him up later; right now, we've got a thirty minute drive to Long Island to deal with."

* * *

"N.Y.P.D., nobody move!" Eliot shouted, holding out his badge for those inside the bank to see. Jennifer mimicked his actions and followed him to the front desk.

"If anyone leaves, there _will_ be witnesses," she warned, placing herself at the one entrance.

"Excuse me, Detective, but what exactly are you doing here?" a middle-aged, British man asked tentatively. He neared her and she could examine his façade more clearly.

He was wearing a red baseball cap the same color of his sweatshirt, with a pair of slightly faded, dark-wash jeans. His sneakers looked new, and his hazel eyes appeared friendly, but almost guarded, in a way. He extended a polite hand for her to shake, but she refused.

"We're investigating a rape and kidnapping case," came her stiff reply, returning to her protective stance in front of the door.

"Who are you looking for around here?"

"Jonathan Keanan; you know him?" When he jumped in a sort of mental anguish, she looked over at him, an obviously not amused expression gracing her soft features.

"He's not here. You've mistaken him for someone else. He's … he's … well, he _can't_ be …"

"And how would you know this?"

"Detective …" The man paused, "Jon Keanan is my _son_."

* * *

"How long did Elizabeth stay around before leaving home, Mark?" Eliot asked, swinging a seat around and straddling the back of it, resting his hands on the upper rim.

"She stayed until exactly two days after her eighteenth birthday. She had graduated the year before and used the excuse of her leaving something along the lines of, 'I need to leave this country, and re-associate myself with my heritage,'" he explained, mimicking a girl's voice poorly. Jennifer walked in, Olivia close behind, and they too sat facing Mark.

"Olivia?" Eliot questioned softly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm helping out on the case. Captain gave me permission after Strait asked me to."

"I thought you-"

"We're done with that. Party tonight; Novak won her very last case."

"Where's she going?" Mark asked, changing the subject.

"Away," Eliot responded tersely, spinning back around to face his witness. "Now, Mark, I'd like you to tell us everything you know about Elizabeth, starting with the basics."

"She's a beautiful girl; always looked exactly like her mother. Black hair, dark blue eyes, nice figure …" Eliot raised his eyebrows. "No, don't get the wrong idea. I would never do something so grotesque to my own daughter." Mark's voice rose in self-defense and he glared at all three detectives angrily.

"Don't get offended, now, your wording just surprised us," Jennifer muttered, taking the stack of papers out of Eliot's hands. "Mark, can you remember if there were any instances where your daughter threatened to run away from home?" At Mark's shocked expression, Eliot prompted,

"Did she ever get more than a little angry at you? Did she ever tell you she hated you or that you'd be sorry one day when she was gone?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Detectives." After a long, considering pause, he added, "I never had a daughter."

* * *

After Mark's confession, Jennifer and Eliot were truly stumped. Even Olivia, who had gone into this case with open eyes, and an equally open mind, couldn't figure out why Jonathan had lied about Elizabeth's relation to him.

"Is there any way we could get a warrant to search his apartment?" Olivia asked Jennifer as they sat down in the office. "Do you think he's realized by now that we bought his line of bull?"

Jennifer shook her head in disappointment. "He himself didn't do anything that would warrant a search. The judge would never allow it on hearsay. Unless we could get a note, a written admittance, a birth certificate …"

"We're screwed. They were born in England; they came over here when they were young children. How would we ever get the birth certificates in time?"

"DNA?" Olivia suggested.

"We don't have a body to compare DNA with," Jennifer differed, "But we _could_ go to Elizabeth's mum's house and take a gander at what's in store there."

"And since when are you British?"

"That's a long story. Anyway … Let's get moving."

* * *

"So, Mrs. Jennings, you don't _have_ a daughter?" The woman shook her head and gave them an inquiring look.

"Where did you hear that I did?" Jennifer sent Eliot a glare that clearly said, _Either I've gone insane, or this woman's not British._ Eliot nodded in agreement.

"According to your son, Elizabeth Jennings is missing."

"Ahh … But, as you know, I don't have a daughter, so I must bid you good day."

"Yes, Mrs. Jennings. We're sorry for disturbing you." The three detectives made their way to the door, preparing to leave.

"No, no, that's quite okay, I was just emailing my sister in England. She moved back the same year I moved here. I haven't talked to her in weeks."

"Sister …? What's your sister's name?" Olivia questioned, taking out her notepad.

"Linda … but what does this have to do with anything?"

"Does your sister have a daughter, Mrs. Jennings?"

"Yes … But I'm not sure where she is right now … I've used up my international calling card; I haven't called her in weeks, like I suppose I've already said. Has Elizabeth done something distasteful with the government?"

"No, Mrs. Jennings; someone else has, and we're trying to find him, or her."

"Who? Who did what?"

"Ma'am, someone raped Elizabeth, and then kidnapped her." As Eliot noticed Mrs. Jennings grow more and more concerned, he interjected kindly, "But we're doing everything we can to find your niece."

The woman sunk down onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. She murmured words like, "Why," and, "She's never done anything to hurt anyone," and, "She was perfect." Jennifer's heart almost broke watching her.

"Don't worry, ma'am, we're going to find Elizabeth Jennings, no matter what it takes, and she _will_ be alive." Mrs. Jennings looked up, confused.

"Jennings?" She shook her head. "Oh, no, no, no, Lizzie's last name is Peters."

"Peters?"

"Yes, 'Peters.' Just as my sister's last name is Peters. And my maiden name."

"Mrs. Jennings … do you have a son?"

"Why, he's only seven. I doubt he'd have any part in this."

"Then do you know a Jonathan Keanan?"

Mrs. Jennings nodded, remembering. "I recall when Elizabeth would call me at midnight every night - it was only seven o'clock here, you know - sobbing because a 'Jon Keanan' would humiliate her every day, and she didn't understand why." After a short pause, in which she shook her head regretfully, she continued, "The calls stopped after she turned eighteen. It hurt for me, because she was my favorite niece, and I knew I was her favorite aunt."

"Thank you for your time, ma'am. We'll keep you updated as we find information."

* * *

"Why would Jon lie about the name?" Jennifer inquired, looking back in the direction of the house.

Olivia chuckled, prompting Eliot to answer, "Why do kids lie about taking cookies out of the cookie jar before dinner?"

"He didn't want to get in trouble?"

"No, he wanted to keep his cookies. Let's go find this loser."

"Can't we talk to Sam first? I don't feel right about this; there's so much in the law about having to have evidence, not just hearsay … and-"

"If there's blockades in our way, we're just going to have to find loopholes, aren't we?"

Olivia shrugged her shoulders, laughing, while Eliot kept driving. "Besides, Detective Strait, you might just find yourself having fun interrogating the poor son-of-a-bitch." Jennifer giggled, but still tried to maintain her usual poker-face.

She didn't want Eliot to see he'd broken down the walls between them. That would just lead to problems.


End file.
